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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24298060">yessir, charlie is back in hellton</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowbeesknees/pseuds/yellowbeesknees'>yellowbeesknees</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dead Poets Society (1989)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cameron is annoying, Charlie is dramatic and bi, Charlie needs to calm tf down, Dalton comes back to Hellton, Dead Neil Perry (Dead Poets Society), M/M, Steven Meeks is whipped for Charlie Dalton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:42:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,941</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24298060</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowbeesknees/pseuds/yellowbeesknees</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie Dalton doesn't need to slip too much money under the table to get Nolan to let him back in through the gates. Honestly, coming back is worth it just to see the look on everybody's faces (especially Cameron's).</p><p>The king having retaken his throne and wearing his crown of (conviently ready for all great occasions) sunglasses, is back to get the Dead Poets Society back on its feet and Todd back with a smile. </p><p>Meeks almost suprises himself with how much he's happy to see Charlie back, and the "yessirs" fall from his lips like Charlie never left. The flirting is casual, exchanged in a few glances, but Meeks seems spurred on by almost losing Charlie once this year already.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charlie Dalton/Steven Meeks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>yessir, charlie is back in hellton</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>in which meeks is just absolutely whipped for charlie (yessir my ass????)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If Charlie Dalton had ever been anything, it was not someone who gave up. If getting back into Hellton was the last thing he did, then so be it, even if Nolan got the beating stick out everyday for the rest of his life. Moping around the house, knowing that something bigger, something better could be done was more than he could bear. The very idea of going to any other school than Welton was out of the question. It was like being involved in some grand adventure and then being told there had been some horrible paperwork mistake, and you weren’t meant to be there and you were to be sent home immediately. But it wasn’t just that, and Charlie knew it, he couldn’t stay here, it was so far removed from Neil, or, at least, where Neil’s memory was, he knew beyond all doubt that the others had stopped the Dead Poets Society, closed the book and shoved it somewhere deep and dark and hidden. He also knew that Cameron had full control of his dorm room, and that he could not stand. Imagining Cameron pacing the halls like a young and ginger Nolan, thinking he owned the place because he was the one who started the whole ‘turning Mr Keating in’ idea, because he was the one who ratted about Charlie punching him and got him expelled, he probably thought he was the king of Welton right now, he was probably sitting in Charlie’s armchair wearing copycat sunglasses and lying on people’s beds when he came round to visit. All in all, Charlie supposed he was lucky his parents had a fat purse and that he was the one with the hand opening the drawstrings.</p><p>In the end it hadn’t even taken that much wheedling and begging, just a few polite suggestions and contrite, sad looks out of the window when it rained; his parents were more than happy to stop the difficult school search and Nolan was easily persuaded by the cash slipped under the table into the Welton trust fund.</p><p>Soon enough he was marching back through the school gates, forbidden pipe in mouth, bags in hand, ready to move back in to his royal seat, much to Cameron’s horror and Charlie’s eternal delight. It was dark when he arrived, but golden lights still flickered in the dorms and he knew dinner had just ended. He breathed in the cool air, it wasn’t quite as cold as the day he had watched Todd stumbling, slipping through the packed snow, screaming out for Neil and then collapsing down by the dock. Charlie had almost thought he might plunge into the ice covered lake and drown himself. He had gone into the snow, that beautiful snow, as well, crashing through the trees following their staggered path to the old cave to find Neil. To scream and find him lurking in the shadows, his pale words of poetry still echoing through the dark, still standing in the light coursing through the hole in the top, still smoking, still grinning that half smirk. There was nothing but a shadow.</p><p>It wasn’t quite as grand an entrance as Keating’s exit. Meeks had sent him a letter about that, and Charlie wished he could’ve seen it. Their last stand, their last rebellion. Well, not their last anything on his watch. He strode into the corridor, after a short and tense meeting with Mr Nolan which involved a lot of dancing around the subject of fees and misbehaviour. He walked through the first milling but now standing stark still and silent crowd of boys as if he had never left, only acknowledging their looks of disbelief with a sly smirk.</p><p>Disturbed by the lack of noise, Cameron appeared in the doorway of their dorm. He gaped and looked just as horrified as Charlie could ever have hoped. His face was bewildered, confused, and then angry. “Dalton,” he said shortly.</p><p>“It’s Nuwanda Cameron, for the last time. If you’ll excuse me I think you’ll find you’re standing in the door of my dorm.” He quirked an eyebrow, smirk still intact, and then, at the lack of movement from Cameron, pushed passed him. It hadn’t changed much and Charlie was satisfied in the fact that nothing changed while the king was away at sea, dropping his bags ceremonially and symbolically on his bed.</p><p>With a derisive snort, Cameron pushed out of the doorway and off down the corridor, probably to complain to somebody on the teacher’s board.</p><p>There was a bemused, suppressed little noise and he turned to see Meeks staring at him. “Charlie? What the hell are you doing back here?”</p><p>“Charlie’s here?” mumbled a voice from behind Meeks, and Todd appeared, looking dishevelled and strained.</p><p>He grinned at them both, and opened his arms as if to say ‘100% intact, nothing broken’ but Meeks seemed to take as an invitation to a hug. “Jesus Meeks,” he said, laughing and hugging him back, “I’m back.” He looked over Meeks’s shoulder at Todd who was standing gingerly in the doorway. “Hey Todd.” Their eyes met and that was all that they needed to say. Todd seemed to have shrunk back in on himself, his bravery quelled once again.</p><p>“I heard Charlie was back,” said an inquisitive voice which could only belong to Knox, “Charlie! I thought I was being joked around! Man is it good to see you back in the old throne.”</p><p>“Come in boys, Meeks, close the door will ya’.”</p><p>He snapped to attention immediately, a wide smile creasing his cheeks. “Yessir!”</p><p>“Sit on Cameron’s bed,” he said with grandeur and more than a little childish spite, “has he been insufferable since me and Keating left?”</p><p>Knox raised his eyebrows at Todd, whose gaze flinched away swiftly. “Has he? Oh I didn’t notice.” He rolled his eyes. “He’s always insufferable Charlie.”</p><p>“He’s been acting like he’s the executioner around here, chopping of Keating’s head and yours, the little mole.” Meeks sat defiantly on Cameron’s bed, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “How the hell did you get back in Nuwanda?”</p><p>“The art of grovelling, deception, and charitable donations my good friend.”</p><p>Even Todd smiled at that and managed a look up at Charlie, who was sprawled on his bed, a laconic smile settled on his mouth for what looked to be staying for the near future. “Its been boring around here without you and Keating and – well, you know.”</p><p>The smile abandoned post for a moment. “How have you been Todd? They didn’t make you stay in that room did they?”</p><p>His eyes fell to the ground and he hummed non-committally. “It’s alright, I just don’t look at – look at his things – where his things were...”</p><p>“Oh come on Anderson! Carpe Diem remember? Look I’ll ask someone to get you moved, while the memory of a fat check with Dalton written at the bottom is fresh in their minds.” He jumped to his feet. “They can’t make you stay in there. I’ve been thinking about his empty – about his empty desk and his bare mattress and I haven’t even had to look at it every fucking day. Come on Todd, I know that Cameron’s just gone to complain about me to the board, he doesn’t want to dorm with me. We’ll ask them to move him out into your room and you can come in here with me!”</p><p>Todd winced slightly. Charlie could tell they hadn’t really spoken about Neil around here, hadn’t mentioned the desk which was meant to be overflowing with textbooks and screwed up paper, hadn’t looked at the faded mattress and said ‘I miss Neil’ to one another. “Cameron can’t stay where me and Neil stayed, that’s sacrilege to his memory.”</p><p>“No it’s not,” he admonished, grabbing his sunglasses from the top of his bag and placing them firmly on his face, “Neil wouldn’t want you sitting in there decaying away. He would want you better placed to sneak out to the Dead Poets Society and seize the day, and live. You know Neil would want that don’t you.”</p><p>“He would,” Knox agreed, picking at the knees of his pyjamas, “of course he would want that, he doesn’t want us to sit around at Hellton wasting our time, and neither would Mr Keating.”</p><p>Charlie nodded emphatically. “Yes, imagine, he leaves and you do the whole ‘Captain, Oh My Captain’ routine, he probably thinks we’re still running riot every night playing saxophone in the cave and reading awful poetry.”</p><p>Todd blinked down at the floor but a gentle smile was trying to lift the corner of his mouth. “Do you think Neil would want us to carry on the Dead Poets Society?”</p><p>“Yes,” Knox said, almost exasperated, “that was what he loved, he wouldn’t want us to end it.”</p><p>“We should do it in his name, in his legacy.” Meeks was looking with concern at Todd’s downcast expression. “He would like that. To be our Captain just like Keating is.”</p><p>“Sure we can have two Captains,” said Charlie, his expression intent.</p><p>“Carpe Diem,” Todd breathed, then he looked up, meeting Charlie’s gaze with firm determination, “what were you saying about going to the administration?”</p><p>Slowly, the smile retook residence on Charlie’s face. “Let’s go boys, we’ve got some work to do.”</p><p>As they hurried down the corridor, Meeks fell in step with Charlie, who, as always, was somehow languid even in their state of anxious speed. “You could’ve written to say you were coming back, if you weren’t so into the theatrics of the whole thing.”</p><p>“It was an incredible entrance,” said Charlie, already reminiscent of his latest blaze of glory, “should’ve seen the look on Cameron’s face.”</p><p>Even Meeks had to admit that he wished he had seen, and looked with regret at the ground as they pounded down the stairs. “It’s nice to have you back Captain.”</p><p>“Captain?”</p><p>“What you think I say ‘yessir’ just for the hell of it?” Meeks smirked at him. “Dead Poets has three captains as far as I’m concerned.”</p><p>Charlie rolled his eyes but grinned. “Shut up Meeks, there’s no need to flatter me I can’t help you, I’ve been away and I’m failing everything.”</p><p>All in all, Charlie’s plan had been extremely successful, banishing Cameron to the ghost of Neil Perry and gaining far more likeable Todd Anderson as a room-mate. It was nothing short of bliss to hear Todd drift off into a deep, unbroken sleep before he dropped off himself.</p><p>-</p><p>“You’re mad Charlie.” Pitts had finally got over the disappointment of not being involved in the first unofficial Dead Poets meeting since before a Midsummer Night’s Dream. “I’ve just decided, completely and utterly mad.”</p><p>Meeks snorted, looking over at Charlie, who has retaken his position on the armchair throne, legs kicked up on the recliner, shades on, face tilted imperiously towards the light of the table lamp. “You didn’t already know that?” he asked, looking back at Pitts.</p><p>He sighed. “I know that study club isn’t meant for studying, but I really do need help on this Latin,” he complained.</p><p>“Let me see,” said Charlie, with a shark-toothed smile.</p><p>“Absolutely not, the only Latin you know is Carpe Diem,” said Meeks, “let me look Pittsey.”</p><p>“Well why not tonight?” he looked appraisingly round at the others, who were huddled around his armchair.</p><p>“Nolan has his beady little eyes on you,” said Knox, “he’s watching our every move until you’ve settled down a little.”</p><p>“Does he know about the cave?”</p><p>“I think Cameron told him,” said Todd in a quiet voice, “but I suppose we don’t really need a cave, do we?”</p><p>Charlie grinned at him, the idea taking light on his abundant mind of tinder. “I like the way you think Anderson, we can find somewhere else,” he mused, tapping his fingers on his thigh, “we can’t let Cameron in on this again, that was our first big mistake last time.”</p><p>Nobody disputed that.</p><p>-</p><p>The door clicked open but Charlie didn’t bother opening his eyes, opening his eyes meant moving and he was currently exercising his right not to move. When he didn’t recognise the footfall as the light, anxious ones of Todd, however, he opened his eyes a crack and caught a glimpse of glasses and freckles through the blurry netting of his eyelashes. “Mr Meeks, and to what do I owe this pleasure?”</p><p>He snorted a laugh. “Very funny Nuwanda but this isn’t an office.” He dropped down on the edge of Charlie’s bed, disregarding the perfectly free and empty one Todd had left behind. “Me and Pitts got the radio working again.”</p><p>Charlie nodded, not quite sure what to say to that. The silence endured and he opened his eyes properly to meet Meeks’s staring eyes, which dropped quickly to the ground. “Why are you here Meeks?” he asked playfully, casually returning the stare Meeks had been sending him with as much ferocious tension as he possibly could.</p><p>“Does there have to be a reason?” he replied after a moments supercharged silence.</p><p>“I suppose not.” Charlie snapped his eyes shut again but his mouth twisted into a smirk, feeling Meeks’s gaze on him again.</p><p>-</p><p>They picked their way through the woods, crunching through fallen twigs skirting round the edges of the slick mud. It was still light, the air heady with the scent of spring and full of birdsong, the afternoon sun burning a penny shape into the sky between the still mostly bare trees. Todd was in front, the others following. It was like a pilgrimage to a sacred place, to the place where Neil should have been. There was a new sign up at the entrance, warning people away and threatening expulsion, not that any of them cared. It was still there, Charlie had almost expected to find the cave obliterated, just a dream. But it was still there, and Neil still was there too.</p><p>Todd knelt down in the centre of the cave and Charlie followed suit, pressing his hands together as if in prayer. He felt Meeks settle down beside him, Pitts and Knox on the behind him. He wished Neil was there.</p><p>After a little while they got to their feet and left the cave behind. “I miss Neil,” said Pitts to the bright, beautiful air.</p><p>The others quietly agreed with that sentiment as they moved back through the woods.</p><p>“Where else could we hold the meetings?” Knox looked expectantly at Charlie.</p><p>“We’ll find somewhere,” he said firmly, taking the lead from Todd, “I’m sure there’s more hidden places round here than just that cave.” He turned and grinned at Knox. “Maybe Chris knows somewhere.”</p><p>“I’m seeing her tonight,” he taunted.</p><p>“Ooooh, naughty boy.”</p><p>They had just reached the edge of the lawns, hidden from the school by a little bank. “In fact, I’ve got to go and get ready.” He winked and ran up the grass towards the school, a revolting skip in his step.</p><p>“I’m going back to our dorm Charlie,” said Todd, “I’m tired.”</p><p>Pitts glanced at him, eyes full of pity. “I’ll walk with you Todd, I’m pretty tired too. You coming?”</p><p>“I think Nuwanda wants to stay out here a little while,” said Meeks, “I’ll be back in a bit.”</p><p>They wandered down to the edge of the boating lake, watching the insects skim the flat glassy surface and the swallows flit passed between the reeds. Meeks walked by his side, every so often casting a glance across at him, resulting in an answering look and smirk from Charlie.</p><p>“Do’ya think Cameron’s going to meddle again?”</p><p>“I don’t know Charlie, maybe, maybe not.”</p><p>“Think we’ll be able to bear it without Neil there?”</p><p>“I think it’s good for us, especially Todd. He needs somewhere to – to, I don’t know, release things I guess, and Dead Poets is better than school work.”</p><p>Charlie nodded, he stopped to watch the water lapping the shoreline. “Me too, it must have been worse when he was trapped in that room with that empty bed.”</p><p>“It was,” sighed Meeks, peering out over the waters, “sometimes he didn’t come out of there for days.”</p><p>“Why didn’t Nolan do something?”</p><p>“I don’t know Charlie, he only took an interest when Todd started missing lessons.”</p><p>“D’you think this is going to work? The Dead Poets Society?”</p><p>“What? Are you writing a book?”</p><p>He snorted. “I was away for a while Meeks and I still haven’t got 100% on the facts.”</p><p>“I couldn’t believe it when they expelled you, but that was nothing to see you walk back through the door. I half expected Mr Keating and Neil to follow you in and tell me it had been some big awful joke.”</p><p>“I should’ve written,” he amended, “I shouldn’t have shocked you all like that, but it was just so much fun to stroll back in there and tell Cameron to hop off.”</p><p>Meeks chuckled, looking at him with amusement in his eyes. “You’re insufferable.”</p><p>“Are you going to grow some balls and do something?” he snapped suddenly, meeting Meeks’s confused eyes. “Go on, do something!”</p><p>“Yessir.” He leaned in almost imperceptibly, teasingly, but the effect was ruined by his flushed cheeks and frightened eyes.</p><p>Charlie cast a quick look up at the school, then grabbed Meeks by the collar and dragged him back towards the woods. Slamming him up against a tree for even greater dramatic effect and smirking widely, he raised his eyebrows at Meeks. “This is what I mean by do something Meeks.”</p><p>He was blushing violently, his glasses slightly askew, open mouthed at Charlie’s directness, at his blunt action. “Charlie,” he murmured, “what the hell are you doing?”</p><p>With a sigh, he dropped Meeks’s collar, smoothing down the boy’s jacket lapels. “Don’t worry about it Meeks.”</p><p>“But Charlie – ”</p><p>“I said drop it Meeks.” He glared at the ground, letting his hands fall from the other’s blazer.</p><p>“It’s Steven.”</p><p>“What? I know it’s Steven, I’m not that stupid.”</p><p>Meeks sighed. “Charles Dalton, I’m trying to flirt with you.”</p><p>A slow smirk lifted one corner of his mouth and he looked up at Meeks. “You’re not doing a very good job and for the last time Steven, the name is Nuwanda.”</p><p>Meeks’s brows creased and he stepped away, almost falling over the tree that was still right behind him. “This was a bad idea Charlie, come on, let’s go back to school.”</p><p>“Why is it a bad idea?” He caught Meeks’s sleeve. “Meeks, what the hell?”</p><p>“If you hadn’t noticed, what we’re doing right now is illegal Nuwanda,” he spat, his face scrunched up and twisted with venom, “we can’t do this.”</p><p>“What the hell happened to not conforming Meeks? Everything that Mr Keating taught us? What happened to eating with our left hands and walking our own walk, what the hell do you think the Dead Poets Society is Meeks?”</p><p>He stood still, staring at the ground, but not tugging away from Charlie’s tight grip on his tweed jacket. “Charlie,” he whispered desperately, “it’s wrong.”</p><p>“You were fine with it before.”</p><p>He glared up at him in irritation. “Before I came to my senses you mean.”</p><p>Charlie dropped his sleeve with a disgusted snort. “Don’t play games with me Meeks. You can’t go from flirting with me to acting like you’re a little choir boy, Jesus Meeks, you need to sort yourself out.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>He didn’t reply, just left him in the forest, cutting back towards the school lawns. He was crying. Charlie did that a lot, he had cried when Nolan beat him, when Neil died, when he had to leave Hellton. He didn’t let anyone give him any shit for it, because he still ruled the halls of Welton with or without Meeks. It was stupid to think of himself as the ruler, as the king, but if he didn’t Cameron would, plus he liked the adoration. So he marched back into the dorms and it was obvious he had been crying, but his expression dared anyone to ask why.</p><p>-</p><p>The thing was, Charlie didn’t need any help being the most charismatic boy in any room at Welton. And he didn’t need any nerd help from Meeks to cause a ruckus. Radio or no radio, Charlie was the centre of attention that day in Latin class. Mr McAllister shot him warning glares every time he ‘accidentally’ (on purpose) chanted the wrong verb or dropped his books. He was probably getting a little cocky again, a little too in the spotlight, but Charlie didn’t care just as long as he got the class laughing behind muffling sleeves. He wondered if he was pushing the bar a little, being a bit too reckless and emotional.</p><p>It had been a few days since they went down into the forest to the Native American cave and Charlie spent a lot of time thinking about Neil. He could tell Todd did too because he would come back to their shared dorm and see him sitting in the window like Neil used to do, sometimes smoking, sometimes reading, sometimes writing. Todd was very different from when he had first come to Welton, Charlie remembered how he had blushed and fumbled when they introduced themselves, how he had avoided looking anyone in the eye. It had been getting better a bit after Mr Keating and the Dead Poets Society, and right after Neil’s death when he had saluted Keating one final time (Charlie was still upset he missed that), but now he was furtive, self-absorbed again. The cave seemed to have helped a bit, closure or whatever they called it, and moving him out of that ghost town of a dorm. When he entered the dorm that evening after eating dinner with Knox, he found Todd smoking in the window, he jumped a little when the door opened and moved to stub out his cigarette but stopped when he saw who it was. “Hey Charlie.”</p><p>“Hi Todd, didn’t see you at dinner.”</p><p>“I grabbed some bread rolls before Nolan turned up, I ate up here.”</p><p>Charlie regarded the crumbs on the floor with a grin, he flopped down on his bed, reclining completely on the mattress. “How’ve you been Todd?”</p><p>He took a long drag from the cigarette. “Same as always.”</p><p>“And what’s the same as always?”</p><p>There was no answer, just the sound of gentle tapping on the window. And then: “I miss him.”</p><p>“I miss him too.”</p><p>“Why did he leave?”</p><p>“Because his father’s a fucking bastard and this school is shit.”</p><p>Todd nodded quietly, tapping the ash out of the window. “Why’d you come back Charlie?”</p><p>Confused by the sudden change in conversation, he twisted his head to look up at Todd. “I didn’t miss Hellton, but I missed all of you and I just – I just couldn’t accept that Neil had gone without seeing the hole he left behind.”</p><p>“It’s not just that though, is it?”</p><p>“There were a lot of superficial reasons,” he admitted, “like thinking about Cameron with this room all to himself, lording it over everyone, sitting in my chair, and Nolan thinking he’d won by kicking Keating out. I couldn’t bear it. And thinking that they might have locked you up in that little room all by yourself. And I just knew you’d all dropped the Dead Poets Society, I didn’t want you all to drop it. Neil loved it, it had to keep going.”</p><p>Todd nodded and handed him the cigarette, he took a slow drag. “I know Charlie, it’s just I couldn’t think about who would read the first poem, no-one could ever replace Neil.”</p><p>“It’s alright Todd,” he murmured, handing the smoke back to him, “I know why you couldn’t but I also know why we have to.”</p><p>“Carpe Diem?”</p><p>“Yes, to seize the day, to seize our lives. We can’t let them dictate everything we do!”</p><p>He grinned through the smoke. “I want to feel alive again.”</p><p>“Do you still write?”</p><p>“Some, mostly about Neil.”</p><p>“You should read one, at the Dead Poets Society.” He paused, craning his neck to look out of the window through the smoke. “You should write the new first poem.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Tradition. Tradition is boring Todd.” He flicked his eyes up to meet Todd’s. “Write the first poem. We need something new, something that we don’t have to imagine Neil reading. I don’t want to pick a new poem from a book, that’s what Mr Keating would’ve done but we do not conform, just like he taught us.”</p><p>“You’re crazy Charlie.” He ground the cigarette against the window then dropped it to the grounds below. “But you’re right. I can’t have it be the poem from before, even the lines remind me of Neil.”</p><p>He nodded, relaxing back against his pillows. “Now all we need to do is find somewhere new to hold the meetings. I wouldn’t put it passed Nolan to be checking the cave for any new activity.”</p><p>“It’s just finding somewhere secluded enough, so you can play the saxophone.” Todd jumped off the sill and went over to his desk. Then he paused and turned back to him. “Charlie, I don’t know if I can write a good enough poem.”</p><p>Charlie frowned at him, grabbing his shades off the bedside table. “Of course you can Todd, even that poem you wrote on the spot was amazing. Neil looked like he was going to jump up and sing your praise, either that or kiss you.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes, blushing, but went to sit at his desk anyway.</p><p>-</p><p>He did not come crawling back to Meeks, absolutely not. He just sat down at the table where Meeks was trying to teach Pitts some Latin and started listening to the lesson. He saw Meeks’s neck burn red as Charlie stared at him, taking in every word, and smirked. So much for his words back in the woods about this being illegal.</p><p>“You look a little flushed Meeks, are you alright?” he asked innocently.</p><p>Meeks took a deep breath and shot a well concealed glare in his direction. “I’m fine thank you Dalton.”</p><p>Still smiling a cheeky smile despite how much the ‘Dalton’ stung, Charlie shrugged. “Just think you look a little hot under the collar.”</p><p>“Right, well, thanks for your help Meeks.” Pitts packed up his things in an apparent hurry and jogged away muttering something about finding Knox.</p><p>“What do you want Dalton?”</p><p>“Help me with the Latin Meeks.”</p><p>“Yessir,” he muttered, then clapped a hand over his mouth with a low curse, “I didn’t mean to say that.”</p><p>Charlie was smirking broadly and moved a little closer. “I don’t really need help with my Latin.”</p><p>“Yes you do.”</p><p>“Yes, I do,” he amended, “but that’s not why I’m here to talk to you.”</p><p>Amusingly, Meeks swallowed, hard. “I wanted to talk to you too.”</p><p>“I’m all ears.”</p><p>“Not here.”</p><p>Charlie caught his eye, irises glittering with innuendo. “My dorm is free.”</p><p>“Where’s Todd?” he asked anxiously.</p><p>“In here, and there’s this handy trick where you put a chair under the door handle, works wonders.”</p><p>“Prick,” he mumbled, letting Charlie lead the way.</p><p>As promised, Charlie shut the door and moved one of the desk chairs, scrapping it theatrically across the floor, keeping eye contact with Meeks, before shoving it with finality against the door. “You wanted to speak to me?” Meeks sat on the edge of Charlie’s bed, so far on the edge he may as well have levitated.</p><p>Meeks bit his lip and his eyes flickered over Charlie before landing back on his face. “You wanted to talk to me?”</p><p>“No fun, you go first.”</p><p>“I’m not about to say yessir and roll over like a dog Charlie.”</p><p>“Oh, it’s Charlie now is it?” He advanced slowly across the room. “I wanted to apologise for my behaviour in the woods a few days ago.”</p><p>“I was wrong to lead you on like that,” he cut in, shaking his head sadly at Charlie. “I wanted to say sorry and – and to...”</p><p>“To what?”</p><p>Meeks jumped to his feet, grabbed Charlie’s blazer lapels tightly, and pulled him in intimately. “Do something. Seize the day.”</p><p>His eyes glittered as he looked up at Meeks, a sly smile on his face. “Why seize the day when you can seize me?”</p><p>He snorted, but leaned in closer and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. Charlie grabbed his lips in his own expertly and guided him in for a proper kiss, feeling Meeks’s hands bunch up his tweed blazer and haul him in even closer, felt his own hands twist in the cool cotton feel of Meeks’s shirt. “Charlie,” he moaned softly against his skin as Charlie’s lips grazed his cheek and planted a gentle kiss against Meeks’s neck, “Charlie.”</p><p>“I love to do a little crime on a Friday night.”</p><p>“It’s not Friday Charlie.”</p><p>“Specifics, boring. Tradition, boring.”</p><p>Meeks grinned, his bespectacled eyes amused. “Ah yes, the tradition of time.”</p><p>“Time is an illusion.”</p><p>“Use that as a poem at the meeting, if you ever get around to finding somewhere to hold it.”</p><p>“What was it you tried to use on those girls in the cave? ‘Me and Pitts built a radio’?”</p><p>“Oh, shut up.”</p><p>“I assume you rediscovered your senses?” Charlie blinked up at him innocently.</p><p>He reddened, looking down at the ground and biting the inside of his cheek. “They’re staying lost for the time being.” His gaze flinched back to Charlie’s, a nervous smile on his lips. “Besides, the tradition of having senses, so boring.”</p><p>“I want to do something illegal again.”</p><p>“Yessir.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is the first dps (and first ao3) fic i've ever written so constructive critiscm is appreciated :)</p><p>charlie is my emotional support dps character and i love him with my entire heart</p><p>idk if i'd consider doing a second chapter???? if that's something you would be interested in, pls say, ta</p></blockquote></div></div>
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